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I don't always write a blog, and indeed some of the companies I work for as a freelancer specifically insist that I don't, but I do occasionally like to put my thoughts and trips into words for posterity, by way of a wee diary, and also an illustration of what I get up to with folks. I do hope you find it interesting, and would welcome any feedback or comments.The best way to search my Archive to see if anything is of interest to you is to type into Google 'johnnywalker.co.uk', then a space, then your query, e.g. 'Arrochar', and you will get a selection of pages and blogs

Sometimes a plan going awry can lead to an almost better alternative. Paul and I had planned on another attempt to summit Triglav in Slovenia this week, after having had to back off due to avalanche activity previously, but the flights were messed up by the booking company, so we had to cancel. As a consolation, I wanted to bag some munros for my second round, and on this pretext were drove North on Weds night and settled into a very nice lodge in the Old Town, North Ballachulish. The problem was the evening view - the whole of Beinn a'Bhethir (said Ben a Vair) was framed in the lodge window, resplendent in broody late summer light, and Paul hadn't done it yet. Over a drink we soon changed the plans, especially knowing the arcane local saying -"If anyone should sup from a cup of ale, yet eschew the view for the sake of another, then he shall be damned to forever walk in the shadow of the midge", so the Mamores were shelved for a traverse of Beinn a'Bhethir (AKA the Ballachulish Horseshoe).OK, I made the last bit up, but it did look so inviting that I was prepared to accept my tally wasn't going to increase by the planned three, only two, but did suggest a FULL traverse, up the cracking Schoolhouse Ridge from Ballachulish, over Sgorr Ban, Sgorr Dearg and Sgorr Dhonuill, but then descend into Gleann a'Chaolais, to which Paul readily agreed.The forecast was for a damp morning, slowly improving, with brooding views and little rain. We even hoped that despite the lack of wind, the prolonged dry spell would mean few midges as we traipsed up through the bracken and heather on the lower slopes of the ridge. Wrong! The wee blighters were waiting in gangs, getting in our ears, throat and drowning in our sweat as they clamoured for a bloody snack. This spurred us to move quickly, and once we got to the scrambling sections, there was thankfully enough breeze to keep them down.The scrambling is never hard, always a little loose, but great fun as we gained height to where the N ridge adjoins onto Sgorr Ban, and there is then an elegant sweeping ridge onto the first munro of Sgorr Dearg at 1024m, where we stopped to take in the views and eat some lunch. We then descended quickly to the bealach at the top of the 'normal' ascent route to P757 before making the final ascent up the increasingly rocky Sgorr Dhonuill. When I first climbed this 16 years ago, I came up Gleann a'Chaolais, and up the final red scree-filled coire wall, and I wanted to go back that way to refresh my memory. The path in the lower reaches of the glen has been greatly improved, but the scree slope is still for connoisseurs only, and Paul was very careful after having only just recovered from an ankle injury! ;)The car was parked strategically at the end of the long fire road by the church on the A82, so after a visit to the Laroch for a pint of shandy, we were soon back at the lodge for a welcome shower after the midges.Today was to be a short day, and I had planned a solitary munro on the way home, but the law of 'climb what you see' was invoked again, and as Paul hadn't done the shapely Sgorr na Ciche, or Pap of Glencoe, that was the chosen target. We ascended up the very eroded (but drier than normal) path that branches off to the end of the Aonach Eagach ridge, and once we got to the bealach, we took the decision to spice things up and scramble directly up to the summit. Again, it is loose at times, but the rock was dry and warm, and in the sunshine it was a joy. The views were grand, and we shared them with a pretty American hill-runner who arrived just as we got up to leave, muddy and breathless but happy with her work.To keep to the trip's ethos of circular routes, we went straight off the nose, due West, down some great little rocky terraces that would be interesting in the wet, but handily marked with wee cairns. Once lower down, it was a mix of steep peaty grassland and bracken, and once we crashed out onto the track I was careful to brush off the half a dozen ticks I expected and found on my trousers. Paul had none, apparently due to the fact insects don't like the toxicity of Teeside blood! ;)

Two great days on the hill, whatever the objectives had been. That's how to deal with disappointment or unplanned change - Do something else. Above all, enjoy it!

A very experienced high-altitude mountaineer once said to me that summit success was '60% attitude, 30% fitness and weather, and 10% luck', and I completely agree. My recent trip to attempt Peak Lenin in Kyrgyzstan, 7134m ended in an early retreat, and the numbers above wavered due to various influences as the trip progressed.We had a very successful early acclimatisation, with the long walk-in to Advance Base Camp from Ashik-Tash basecamp going smoothly, followed by an ascent of the North ridge of Petrowsky as far as the non-technical ground extended to 4150m. Then, after a rest, it was up to summit Yukin Peak at 5140m, which was a fantastic viewpoint for the whole route. It is there that we started to get an appreciation of the scale of this massive mountain.Nothing in the Alps compares to the immensity of the Himalaya, and this area, the Pamirs, is no different. The standard convention of not ascending more than 3-500m per day simply will not allow sufficient progress here, and the camps are strung out in 'safer' areas on the mountainside with around 1000m of ascent each time. This, along with the fact that you carry loads above ABC mean that the days are physically challenging, and acclimatisation is at a premium. Finally, as there are various commercial companies operating on the mountain, the bottleneck that is Camp 2 has become an unsanitary and rather sketchy place to be or longer than necessary.My 10% luck really ran out on the day we were due to do our first load carry when I came down with diarrhoea. This meant another rest day and plenty of antibiotics. It is always important to follow stringent camp hygiene, and I have always been fastidious with washing, eating and drinking, but unfortunately here you are somewhat at the mercy of the camp cooks etc, and stomach upsets were rife around the whole mountain, let alone at our camp. I felt a little better after 48hrs, and managed to eat, so we set off at 2am, the first party to do so. We made good time across the moraines and up the glacier, tackling the crevasses and ladder steadily and safely. We were in no rush, as we would be able to cross the 'Frying Pan' (where the snow and ice reflects the UV light and heat and provides exceptionally hot temperatures and debilitating levels of UV) to Camp 2 before it got really hot. Unfortunately, as each hour went by, I got weaker, the lack of food and rigours of the illness telling on me. We slowed, and eventually got to C2 by around 1pm. We had to find and erect the tents stored there by the porters amongst the relative chaos of far too many people, in various states of exhaustion through heat and effort and of course the altitude, as were were at 5400m by now.The only place we could pitch was right at the top of a steep stony area, exposed to rockfall, but 'thankfully' close to the melt-water supply and the precarious balcony path to the quite disgusting latrine area. I would need to make countless visits during the night, tottering along the icy, gravelly path in the dark, and could keep no food down. It was pretty miserable and very difficult to remain hygienic, so the decision was made to descend the next day, which we did.I did feel a little better with the drop in altitude, but the lack of sustenance in over four days was telling, and so we knew we had to rest more days. The problem was that the weather window was slipping by, and to make things worse, there was a guide and his client killed in an avalanche just above C2, a Swiss climber found dead on the summit ridge and various parties missing/trapped up at C3 and C4. All of this affected the 60% factor, that of attitude. We assessed our options, and contemplated getting a local guide to assist, but the weather, the fatigue, the interrupted acclimatisation programme and the ever-increasing serious nature of the mountain was nibbling away at our resolve. After a lot of debate and mulling over our options, we decided to abandon the trip.It is/was very disappointing and sad, but it's all part of mountaineering. A 7000m summit is a real challenge in itself, without some of the other physiological and psychological issues we were facing. You need to be in prime physical and mental condition, otherwise the higher you go, the more dangerous and consequence-ridden it all becomes. Peak Lenin truly is a wonderful mountain in an outstanding area, and more than lived up to my expectations. Some of the conditions on the mountain not so.But it is huge. It is very high. It does not suffer fools. Everything needs to be stacked in your favour, otherwise things can become very serious indeed. The nominal success rate is between 20-25%, and anecdotally we had it suggested that this year it has been in single figures - That was certainly reflected at our camp.You win some, you lose some. Yes, We were very disappointed, but all of us know we made the right decision. Will I be back? Certainly a possibility.............it's a cracker of a mountain!